


I Won't

by fakesuicideofgenius



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Time, Just Sex, M/M, No plot whatsoever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1876239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakesuicideofgenius/pseuds/fakesuicideofgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instances that bring Sherlock and John together, and incidents that rip them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Thanks for reading. I've just always wanted to post something, so I rattled this out the other day.

The first time it happens, it’s fueled by adrenaline. Anxieties unearthed by the trauma of their past few hours are soothed only by the press of John’s lips to Sherlock’s. Sherlock bends his knees to accommodate for their difference in height as John presses him to the wall with a hand in the center of his chest. 

“You could have _died_.” Sherlock hisses as he fingers the rope burns on John’s wrist. 

“I didn’t. I won’t,” John whispers back, his lips brushing Sherlock’s as he speaks, “I’m here, Sherlock, I’m right here.” And Sherlock can feel exactly how _here_ John is when a hard length is presses against his hip. His head thumps back against the wall, and he exhales in a rush.  
 “Upstairs,” he pants. John pulls his lips and teeth away from Sherlock’s neck to look into his eyes. Sherlock arranges his facial expression to say _yes, I still want this_ , and John gives a brisk nod before he steps back and sweeps his arm in a way that suggests Sherlock lead the way. Sherlock takes the stairs quickly and is briefly overwhelmed when John presses himself against Sherlock’s back, trapping him against the door while he fumbles for the doorknob. As his hand curls around the knob, he presses back against John and they both groan quietly. 

They do eventually make it into the flat and into Sherlock’s bedroom. Sherlock sheds his shoes and socks and pulls off his coat while John watches, captivated. John takes a few seconds to snap into action, pulling off his clothes in a manner much less graceful than Sherlock. When they’re both in their pants, John presses Sherlock into the mattress, holding himself above the slender detective with something like awe in his eyes. 

Sherlock arches his back, grinding his hard length into John’s and closes his eyes. John presses down against him and their lips join once again. John’s tongue explores the deepest part of Sherlock’s mouth, tracing over his teeth and battling with Sherlock’s own tongue. Sherlock pulls John’s bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a pop that has the blond groaning. They lose themselves in the kiss, only stopping once their movements become frantic enough for John to realize that he is very close to finishing without feeling Sherlock’s skin against his own. He lifts up and Sherlock follows him with his mouth, a whine spilling from his lips. 

John sits back on his calves between Sherlock’s legs, and Sherlock supports himself on his forearms. John takes in the sight before him, his tongue darting out to run across his bottom lip. Sherlock unconsciously mimics the movement, his eyes searching John’s face for any clues as to what he’s thinking. John holds eye contact with Sherlock as he slides his fingertip under the band of Sherlock’s pants. Sherlock pulls the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth and lifts his hips. John pulls the pants down his legs, crawling backwards and sliding them off of one ankle at a time, kissing down Sherlock’s legs as he goes. The rush of cool air against Sherlock’s cock is enough to make him twitch. 

Sherlock lets his head drop back onto his pillow, trying to regulate his breathing and make himself last a bit longer. He is jolted from his recitation of the periodic table when he feels something hot press against his cock. John groans and ruts his length against Sherlock before he settles against him with his forearms on either side of his head. 

“Hey,” he whispers, kissing Sherlock once, twice, “you still there?” 

“Of course,” he replies, and his tone says _obvious_ but his eyes say _I could never be anywhere else_. 

They begin their kiss again, languid and content, but it soon turns into panting into one another’s mouths as they soon reach their frantic pace from before. John opens his eyes and is immediately trapped in an icy grey-blue ocean with no sight of land for miles. He finds that the idea of drowning in it is not frightening, but soothing like the gentle sway of a boat on calm water. 

John reaches one hand between their bodies and his grunt matches Sherlock’s whine in tone  
but not in pitch. His hand is hot and tight wrapped around both of their cocks at the same time. Sherlock’s eyes close again and his head tilts back, offering his throat to John. John begins to thrust harder into the circle of his hand, and takes the alabaster skin of Sherlock’s neck into his mouth. He bites and then sucks and Sherlock keens as his cock twitches and he comes. The twitching against his own cock combined with the noises coming from Sherlock’s throat are enough to push John over the edge, and his come pools in the hollow of Sherlock’s stomach. 

He falls to the side of Sherlock, draping his arm across his chest but being careful not to drag it through any of the rapidly cooling come covering Sherlock’s torso. Once he has regained his breath, he walks on weak legs to the bathroom to dampen a flannel. He cleans Sherlock up and throws the flannel to the floor in order to climb back in bed with Sherlock quicker. Sherlock’s breathing is deep and even, but he still closes his arm around John and pulls him closer into his side. John presses his forehead to Sherlock’s jaw and his lips to Sherlock’s chest before he allows himself to be lulled into sleep by the steady movements of the chest beneath him. 

They don’t talk about it the next day. Nor the day after that. John wakes up alone to find Sherlock has taken a case without him and goes about his normal routine while deciding what to say to Sherlock. When the detective walks through the door later that night covered in what seems to be red clay, John hesitates long enough for Sherlock to make his escape. 

“Shower.” He says. 

There is no indication to John that Sherlock did anything other than delete the entire event.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again! I really appreciate criticism - it helps in the long run.


End file.
